Black Dragon
by Jaymz
Summary: How ironic then, that the saviour of this country on the brink of war, should be the harbinger of death to thousands.
1. Prologue: Absence of Colour

_Prologue: Eight years before the Dragon War. _

_Absence of Colour_

The dark thunderclouds moved in over the grassy plains, the cold, wet wind blew harshly the trees barely standing against the force of nature. Large and cold droplets fell from the sky, plopping onto the chilled territory of the Dragon Clan. In the distance a growl of thunder echoed over the mountain ridge and the air across the valley shook with its force.

The pounding of horse's hooves reverberated with the thunder as the rider forced his steed faster and faster towards the border. Thick black thunderclouds moved across the dark sky, the black shadow chasing the rider across the damp landscape. Frantically he looked over his shoulder, only to see the Black Dragon forces cresting the hill and bearing down on him. His heart leapt into his throat, sweat mixing with the ice-cold rain that dripped down his neck. The pounding of the hooves' and the cracking of thunder united as one, he could feel them closing in on him, even though his steed was running as fast as it possibly could he felt as though he were running through mud, like some horrible nightmare; it felt like he was fleeing but getting nowhere as his pursuers gained on him at an inhuman speed.

"Yah!" He kicked the horse sharply and it snorted in protest. Behind him the thundering of hooves was getting louder and closer. He spun round only to see the flash of lightning explode across the silver blade that rushed towards his neck.

* * *

The silver haired youth pouted in annoyance and slouched down in the saddle of his horse. Around him the soldiers chatted quietly and his scowl deepened as he heard several mentions of his name. He opened his mouth to tell them to shut up, but a deep voice cut him off,

"Dilandau, come here." The boy raised his head and fixed his crimson eyes on the commander. Prodding his horse he pulled up at the side of the large black steed.

"Yes, Folken-sama?"

The young Emperor tipped his head to the side and looked down at the boy,

"We're almost at the castle. During your stay there I want you to behave, King Korechika is a great man, and I won't have you destroying our friendship with him. He has a large army and would be a most helpful ally."

The ten-year-old sneered but as Folken narrowed his eyes he shrugged and muttered "As you wish Folken-sama."

The older man nodded and pulled his charger back to the front of the ranks of the travelling Black Dragon Clan army. Behind him Dilandau resumed his scowling and childish moping; wondering why the hell Folken was sending him off to live with some stupid king for moons on end. The bitter winter wind knocked him out of his sulking, pulling his cloak tighter around him, Dilandau raised his head to survey the land. The army were marching through a large valley, on either side of them great mountains rose towards the heavens. On the wind they heard the occasional bleating of Gaian Goats, Dilandau inhaled deeply the cold air stinging his chest, shifting in his saddle his stallion twitched its head then resumed its trot of hooves against frozen land. As the army reached the end of the winding and dangerous mountain path they stopped at a precipice. Beneath them extended the great land of Hadrian. Against the blue horizon stood the formidable castle of the great King Korechika, beneath it sprawled out the city, wisps of smoke twisted in the wind rising towards the winter-blue sky, as his eyes trailed further away from the castle, he saw large fields all bare as a result of the early winter.

Dilandau sighed in boredom; Hadrian was a great country upon Gaia, its king a strong and formidable man with the second largest and skilled army. Folken wanted Hadrian to become a member country of the Black Dragon Clan, however he didn't want to do it by force, rather he wanted it to be done peacefully and diplomatically. However the garnet-eyed boy wondered what this had to do with him. For years now he had been under the tutelage of Folken yet a moon ago he had been told he was being sent to Hadrian for a few moons, he suspected Folken was doing it as a way to rid himself of his violent tendencies, but still it was a great chance to further his training.

Gently nudging his horse forward Dilandau followed the army down the steep and rocky hill, towards his home for the next few moons.

* * *

King Korechika was a tall and greying man, his once jet-black hair was now streaked with premature silver strands, and his dark green eyes had lost their sparkle as he faced each and every trouble in a calm and level-headed manner. His dark skin had paled somewhat and the telltale wrinkles of stress lined his eyes. He was not a particularly old man, only in his early forties, but going by the average male life-span of his time, he was indeed far past his golden years. Korechika had been king for little over twelve years, yet he had faced wars, the death of his young wife and had to raise six children on his own, he was as close as a king could come to being a single father. He suspected that it wasn't his duties as king that aged him so quickly but rather the antics of his children and his continual worry and suspicion he harboured for his eldest son. And most likely the over-bearing way in which he coddled his youngest child – his only daughter, the heir to his legacy. He had long since concluded that being a father was definitely a lot harder than being King.

Korechika was not King of Hadrian because of his bloodline, but rather he had become King through death, blood, betrayal and war. At the age of 8 he became squire to Rafe Kosaburo a great knight of Hadrian. As the years passed Korechika grew in strength, skill and intelligence, at the age of 18 he took a blushing bride – Kerria. Not long after his marriage the old and sickly king of Hadrian died. His heir, his only child was killed upon his return to Hadrian; the assassins were acquaintances of Rafe, the very power-hungry man that wanted to place himself upon the throne. Outraged and disgusted Korechika raised an army against the pretender to the throne. The battle between master and protégé was short yet painful and bloody. And thus upon the dishonourable death of Rafe, Korechika became the king of Hadrian. No one dared dispute his rise to power; instead they embraced his policies of education and military training for all able bodied men. In order to authenticate his claim to the throne, the royal council claimed that Korechika was a very distant relative of the late king, brandishing papers to validate this. Hadrian kept its position of one of Gaia's great countries through war and education of the masses, after all war is the most profitable business known to man.

And now almost fifteen years after Rafe's death, his deception was living on in Korechika' eldest son, also ironically named Rafe. Before Korechika had discovered the true nature of his master, he had named his first born after the man he admired so greatly. By law Rafe was the heir to the throne, but as he grew his father realised that his flesh and blood was an irresolute and corrupt man that would lead Hadrian to its doom. Without his son ever knowing he changed the right of succession to his youngest child, his daughter Gin'iro. Upon the death of the king, she was to become Queen of Hadrian and her husband the rightful ruler of his powerful country. To ensure that his greedy son would never get his hands on the throne he had betrothed him to a princess in a remote country and had arranged a marriage for Gin'iro to a suitable and strong boy.

The king sighed deeply and sat back in his large chair in the torch-lit study. Rubbing his temples he stood and silently walked over to the large painting that dominated the far wall of his study. Raising the flickering torch, he sadly stared at the faces of his children, Gin' would never forgive him for robbing her of her freedom, for forcing the crown upon her young and independent head.

Many years ago Korechika had commissioned a great young artist to paint the royal family's portrait. When the young man had stood before the family he commented on what a "handsome collection of specimens" they were. Many moons later when King and artist had stood before the finished painting in his study the man had commented on looks of his children.

"When the Gods created your sons, milord, they chose the richest colours and textures," he said gesturing to the dark hair, olive skin and rich eyes of his sons, "But when it came to painting your daughter the Gods had used up all the rich colours on your sons, they only had a small amount of colour left and used it in her eyes. Where you and your sons are rich dark colours, your daughter is the absence of colour."

Korechika looked at the painting of his youngest child, little Gin'iro sat in a small chair dressed in a puffy blue dress that she had to be forced in for each sitting. He wholly disagreed with the artist, Gin'iro had long silky silver hair that reached her waist, pale and soft skin, but it was her eyes that the artist had been referring to. Dark purple fluid orbs stood out against her pale skin, slightly hidden underneath wayward silver locks. He reached out and touched the canvas,

"I hope that one day you can forgive me little Gin'iro, for you're the only one of my children that has the strength to rule this land."

Gin'iro stood alone in the Great Hall of the palace; her right hand twirled one of her plaits round her fingers. Her tipped up to the large painting that hung opposite the large windows, the late afternoon shone brightly against the features of her mother. Her golden hair was loose and all pulled over one shoulder, her shining blue eyes smiled at the artist and down on Gin'. Kerria had died giving birth to Gin'iro, and the youngest royal knew full well the stories that circulated about her looks. Her handmaiden Kira said that the reason that Gin' was so pale was that the hand of death had touched her as she was ripped from her dead mother. It was her cross to bear for being the cause of her beautiful mother's death. Her lips curled downward in a pout and her eyes brimmed with tears at the thought, was it fair that her mother should die in order for her to live? Gin' often wondered what right she had to life at the cost of her mother's. Once when she had brought it up with her father, he had said,

"Gin'iro, you have a great purpose in life, your mother loved you even though she never knew you. She made the sacrifice so that you may live and fulfil that great purpose for which you are destined."

Gin'iro didn't know what her purpose in life was, but then she was only ten-years-old, and at present she lived for the coming of winter, the heavy snowstorms, the great tournaments that her father took her to, and of course annoying her elder brothers as much as possible.

"Come back here!" The angry howl bounced off the marble floors and walls of the Great Hall. Gin'iro giggled and scampered through the gap in the door, she took off down the long corridor her older brother, Nobu, hot on her heels.

"You little brat! Get back here!" He screamed after her. She rounded the corner and slammed straight into a guard, he stopped her and held the wriggling girl in his grip,

"Princess Gin'iro**,** your father wishes to see you." He looked up as her brother slid round the bend, "And you too young Master." He released the girl and Nobu stuck his tongue out at her, "I'll get you later." He warned.

She retorted with a resounding raspberry and then bounced down the corridor after the guard. They approached the heavy wooden doors of her father's private study room; the doormen slammed the butts of their staffs against the hard floor and saluted the young royals. Gin'iro hated that; anywhere she went guards were sure to be no more than a few feet behind her and making loud noises before her. Following the first guard into the room she fidgeted behind him, desperate to get past him and away from her brother who was purposely standing on the back of her shoes.

Shoving her way past the guard she bounced over to her father's side, grinning down at her, he enveloped her in a bear hug and she giggled, dropping her back to her feet he ruffled Nobu's dark hair and the eleven-year-old grinned up at him.

"You wished to see us father?" An oily voice asked from the doorway. They turned to see Rafe making his way over to them. Gin' immediately pulled a face and she and Nobu stepped closer together. Where in the case of most people it can be said that appearances are deceiving, in the case of the eldest son of Korechika Michinaga, appearances couldn't be closer to the slimy truth. Rafe was a fairly short and skinny teenage boy, his thin dark hair hung around his beady little eyes in long wet-looking wisps, a sharp and crooked nose protruded from his sallow and gaunt face. His black cloaks hung limply around his bony and pointy frame; he made his way into the dark room, walking with a limp. Last year he had been hit with a particularly bad bout of influenza, it had taken him to the brink of death, and Korechika has called upon the best healers in the land to tend for his son. Korechika was not a heartless man and didn't want his son to die in such a way, although at times he wondered why he had bothered to help his son. In his darkest nights, Korechika often wondered if it would have been better to allow his malevolent son die, and save him all the worries of how he was planning to usurp the throne. Gin' shuddered as Rafe closed in on them, sliding in behind her father, but Rafe caught her arm, his bony fingers digging into her soft arm,

"How is my lovely sister today?" He asked with as much sincerity as a snake that regarded its prey.

She pulled her arm away and glared darkly at him, "I'm just fine thank you." She stated flatly. Rafe grinned down at her, showing off his crooked and yellowing teeth, Gin' cringed and tossed back a platinum pigtail. The double doors swung open and the rest of the Michinaga family made their way into the room, five sons and one daughter stood in front of the King and he smiled warmly at them all.

"We will be having a guest in the castle for the next few moons. He will be trained along side you boys, he is a member of the Black Dragon Clan and I will be negotiating with Emperor Folken for the country of Hadrian to become part of the Black Dragon family."

From the corner of her eyes, Gin'iro saw Rafe's eyes light up in glee at the mention of the Black Dragons. She followed her brothers out as they made their way to greet the guests.

Dilandau looked up at the castle that rose above him and seemed to stretch right into the heavens. The black outline of the imposing building stood against the pale shades of red of a new sunset. The wind blew through the courtyard tugging on his silver bangs. He stood staring at the large castle, feeling slightly fearful of the dark gothic gargoyles that jeered, with sharp teeth and twisted faces, down at him. Dilandau softly snorted at himself and shook his head at such childish thoughts, following Folken into the large hall.

Folding his arms across his chest he arrogantly surveyed the hall around him, it was floored with dark green and black speckled marble, great pillars rose from the floor and met with the domed roof high above their heads. Off to his right doors opened and a tall man walked in, Dilandau guessed that his was the 'great king' that he'd been told about, with a bored expression on his face he watched as his children trailed in behind him the first being a wimpy looking boy and the last a girl about his age. Crimson eyes widened as he stared at the girl at the end, she had _his _hair colour, a childish annoyance rose in him as she passed him, _he_ was the only one in Gaia that looked like that! How dare she have the same unique hair colour as him! Well, he frowned, it wasn't unique anymore the little brat had stolen something that made him stand out from the dull masses.

Bitch.

The girl took her place at the end of the line of her siblings and _stared_ right at him with wide purple eyes. Where Dilandau was annoyed that there was another being on Gaia with hair like his, Gin'iro was astounded to find that she wasn't alone in her albino looks, she was singled out for her absence of rich colours, and here was another just like her!

Throughout the mundane speech that the king rattled, Dilandau was aware of the girl never taking her eyes off of him. He began to feel her purple gaze boring a hole into him, getting annoyed he turned and pulled a face at her.

Korechika frowned and looked down the line of his children as he heard a loud snort and then the stifled giggles of a little girl, he looked at the silver-haired boy who had an innocent expression on his face. He turned to Emperor Folken who merely gave him a small, if not cold, smile.

"Maybe I should let my children leave, please follow me Lord Folken." Folken nodded and turned to Dilandau,

"Behave yourself." He hissed under his breath at the boy.

Dilandau's lip pulled up in a sneer and as he was about to retort Folken spun on his heel and strode after the king in a flurry of a black cloak. Dilandau jumped as he felt warm fingers bracelet round his wrist. He turned with narrowed eyes to see deep purple pools watching him, the girl smiled,

"Follow me; I'll show you to your room."

Without much of a choice the girl dragged him out of the room and down a long carpeted hall. As she practically bounced in front of him Dilandau wanted nothing more than to be away from the little brat. Gods, she was far too happy for her own good, her pigtails swinging back and forth behind her as she led him to the wing where he would be staying.

With a sharp push the doors to his apartment swung open and the girl went into the room ahead of him. His rooms were large and well furnished with a large bed in the bedroom, she stepped over his bags then spun round, he hadn't noticed that she had stopped and walked right into her,

"Watch it." He grumbled.

"_You_ were the one that bumped into _me_. Didn't Emperor Folken educate you in the _formal_ way to address royalty?" She snapped at him in an irritatingly prim voice.

Dilandau was a little taken aback, he'd been round royalty before and he always managed to reduce the girls to tears, but this one had practically ripped his head off.

"I defer to _no one_." He half-growled at her stepping away and over to the large windows.

With a flighty change of interest that children are prone to, Gin' enquired curiously, "Do you have a name?"

He turned over his shoulder, "Yes I do."

"Well?" She prodded, to which he smirked and looked away from her.

"It's Dilandau."

She smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Gin'iro, but you may call me Gin'."

"Oh, don't I feel privileged?" He sneered sarcastically.

"Are you always this impertinent?" She asked her hands on her slender hips.

He turned round and grinned at her, "No, this is all for you."

Shaking her head she sighed and left the room, Dilandau watched her go frowning he tipped his head to the side and remained lost in his thoughts. As he thought of the girl, Gin', he felt himself grinning in a cruel fashion, if he could at least torment everyday then maybe the moons that he spent here wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

* * *

**_To be continued…_**

**Disclaimer:** Escaflowne and all characters are copyright Bandai Sunrise and affiliates. No money is being made from this peice of fanfiction. However, original characters and places are copyright the author.

**Notes: **1) _Gin'iro _(Japanese) crudely translates into _'Silver colour' _(English). 2) I know that Dilandau is 18 in the film, but I'm unsure how old Folken/Dune is. So I'm saying that he is 10 years older than Dilandau, making him 28 in the film and 20 in this part…& if I'm wrong…well it's hardly important is it? . Ja ne

Edited 30/05/04


	2. One: Past Encounters

Much thanks to those who have reviewed so far.

**A/N: **This chapter is composed solely of the past encounters between Dilandau and Gin'iro over the years. It takes the story from where I left off right up to a moon, or month, before the events of the movie.

_Chapter One: Past Encounters_

**25th White Moon – Gin'iro, aged 10**

Kokkan Ten has come around again, and now Dilandau has been with us for over three weeks. I wonder if he likes it here, for the most part he remains by himself. In cases of other people I would take this to mean that he might be lonely but when it comes to Dilandau I think that he prefers to be alone, and so I do my best to respect that. But still the boy fascinates me like no other! I don't mean this is a girlish way, but I mean, he is but a few moons older than me, and yet he has seen the whole of Gaia, in his presence I feel like a baby, I want him to tell me about all that he has seen in this world, I want to know what he knows. And yet he spends time alone, most likely avoiding my constant questions and me. I want to know about him, but that doesn't mean that I like him; he's arrogant and believes that he is above everyone else on Gaia. There's something about him that really bothers me, I know that there is a secret about him that father knows and he isn't telling me.

I love this time of year, the land is covered with a thick blanket of snow and the great festivities of Kokkan Ten light up even the darkest and coldest nights. I could hardly sleep last night, and got up before the sun this morning. Daddy had the woodsman cut down the biggest fattest tree he could get his hands on and they placed it in the Great Hall. We decorated it in beautiful shades of red and gold, the sunlight streaming through the windows making it glitter and sparkle, the baubles looking like stars.

We spent the morning opening our gifts, all my brothers were present as well as Tira and her parents – the Princess that Rafe is betrothed to, and there were a few other guests – acquaintances of Daddy's. Once all the gifts had been opened and my father and the others had retired to the lounge room, I noticed that there was one box left under the tree. It was my gift to Dilandau, and he was not there. Bending down I pulled it out from under the tree, the loose needles showering down onto the floor and getting stuck in my hair. I left the room and made my way to his room, standing outside his door I fidgeted. He made me nervous, really he did. He had this way of looking right through me or past me that made me feel like I didn't exist and that I was beneath him. I knew that he scorned the sentimentality of the season and that he never let anyone get close to him. Maybe the gift was a mistake. I turned to go and my eyes dropped to the black box in my hands, it was quite small and tied with a red silk ribbon, since his arrival I had noticed that these were the colours he wore the most, I briefly wondered if they were his favourite colours. I hadn't really put a lot of thought into the gift, last week I was at the bazaar and I saw it. It reminded me of him the instant I saw it, and I had to buy it. I fingered the bow and sighed, this was a stupid idea. I quickly knocked on his door and waited silently.

"What?" He yelled through the thick wood, sounding gruff.

Taking a deep breath I composed myself and slowly turned the gold knob, the door smoothly opened and I stepped into his sunlit room. The door slid shut with a muffled click, yet Dilandau didn't look up from his seat at the edge of his bed. He was sitting with his sword across his lap; his hands were busy meticulously cleaning and sharpening the deadly length of silver. I swallowed, he was armed – this was such a bad idea! I fidgeted on my feet and then cleared my throat loudly; he stopped what he was doing and looked at me from the corner of his eyes under thick silver strands. _Just give him the damn present!_

Slowly his eyebrows came up as he silently watched me; I swallowed thickly and held the box out at arms length. "Here." I managed a smile that didn't look plastered on.

Frowning he took the box from me in one hand and removed his sword from his lap with his other. I instantly decided that I didn't want to be in the room when he opened it and I gave him a quick bow before turning and practically sprinting out of the room. The door swung shut behind me and I exhaled deeply before returning to the lounge.

**25th White Moon – Dilandau, aged 10**

I stared down at the small black box in my hand; my head came up just as the door shut behind the girl. I frowned and turned the box over in my hands, what the hell was she doing giving me a gift? I had already told her how much I hated this pointless season and yet she still insisted on dragging me into it. I put it down on my bed and picked up the sword and resumed sharpening it.

Less than a miet later the box was back in my hands as I stared at it, I began to wonder what a princess would buy for a training soldier. Eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I tugged the red bow apart, lifting the lid off I removed the thin layer of white tissue paper. Underneath silver glinted in the sunlight; I pulled it out and held it up to see what it was. A thick chain of silver hung between my fingers, beneath it a silver medallion swung like a pendulum. I reached out and held the smooth disc in my palm, the back was flat but the front brought a smirk to my face; inlaid in onyx into the silver was a dragon.

"A Black Dragon." I muttered to myself, fingering the clasp of the chain, momentarily I wondered where she got it. I slid it round my neck and hid it under my shirt; the metal was cold against my skin. Shaking my head it picked up my sword and continued to sharpen the edges.

**3rd Green Moon – Dilandau, aged 10 **

This was absolutely ridiculous! Who the hell do these people think I am?! I _do not_ dance! Standing in the dark corner I glowered at the old hag and made sure that everyone in the room knew just how little I was enjoying this. Across the room Gin'iro caught my eye, I glared at her and she matched my look with her own. We remained like that, glaring at each other as the old woman shuffled her weak brothers into the centre of the sunlit room.

"Come here milady." She motioned for the snotty little brat to stand by her side, never breaking our contact she stepped beside the older woman.

"Young Lord, come here." He bony fingers pointed at me as the flabby skin of her arm wobbled, I cringed and took a step backwards there was no way in hell I was dancing with Gin'. I was about to tell her exactly where she could shove it when I saw something move in the shadows of the room. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw King Korechika watching me, Folken's words echoed relentlessly in my head, damn what choice did I have? Taking a deep breath I grudgingly stepped forward and glared at the girl at her side, the curtains ruffled as the King left.

The daft hag smiled and clapped her hands together, "Thomas if you please." She called out to the boy at the piano, he started a waltz piece. The woman put her hands on Gin's shoulders and shoved her towards me; she dug her feet into the wooden floor and had to literally be shoved in my direction. She looked as happy with the situation as I did. She cringed as my hands were placed on her waist and our hands were clasped, _Think I'm enjoying this you idiot?! Don't look at me like that! _

"One, two three, one, two three." The bitch that got me into this counted as we circled round the room. Her brothers were dancing with other girls that I'd never seen before and they were all chatting politely whereas Gin' and I were wrapped in a stony silence. A smirk tugged at my lips as I thought of a way to liven things up a bit. A sharp pain shot across my foot and up my shin, I swallowed my yelp of pain and glared at the brat,

"Why you little-" I snarled, her eyes narrowed and she stepped back as I went to retaliate,

"I knew what you were thinking." She hissed at me, "Don't even try it."

I gripped her right hand in mine and crushed her smaller fingers, her face contorted in pain as I continued to squeeze,

"Watch yourself **Princess**, I am not a gentleman." I snarled down at her.

"I gathered that." She hissed back. As I continued to 'hold' her hand in mine a dark thought seeped into my brain, she was so fragile; with one hard tug I could break her little wrist and there was nothing that she could do to stop me. I felt a burning power hiss through my veins as I sneered at her, her dark eyes widened in pain becoming shiny with tears she would never shed in front of me. I could feel it pounding through my veins, the Power that Folken had trained me in, the Blood that coursed through my body, I was above this weak little girl, and everyone in this pathetic castle was my inferior. I would show them just who the powerful one was before I left.

"Let me go!" her voice barely above a pained hiss.

"Make me." I taunted, enjoying her pain.

"Fine!" A sharp pain seized my groin as her knee crushed what was there. I fell back and doubled over, clenching and unclenching my fists willing the unbelievable pain to go away. That bitch! I raised my head to see her cradling her hand against her chest,

"You are not a gentleman, Dilandau and I am not a lady." She spat at me.

Growling I slammed into her and we toppled to the floor, everyone in the room stopped to gawp at us as we rolled across the polished floor trying to inflict pain upon the other.

"Oh my!" the old woman watched us as she wrung her hands, "Oh by the Gods, what will the King think when he sees this?!"

The resounding ring of flesh against flesh echoed through the room as I slapped her, hard. Wide-eyed she held her reddening cheek and stared blankly at me.

"You bastard!" She screamed raising her fists, I caught them sneered down at her,

"Did you just figure that out?"

"I'll kill you!" Her voice rang in my ears as I continued to grin down at her.

I laughed, a cold hard laugh that made her cringe, "I very much doubt that."

"What is going on here?!" A voice thundered from the doorway, I jumped to my feet and dragged her with me. We turned to see her father standing glaring at us both, Gin' yanked her hand away from mine and examined the dark bruises that were rapidly forming.

"Nothing." She grated out.

Her father raised a brow at me and I smiled as innocently as I could, "We were just dancing, weren't we Gin'?" I asked placing my hand on her shoulder. She shrugged me off and glared at me from the corner of her eyes,

"Yes father, there's nothing to worry about."

He watched us both for a moment, his brow furrowing before he slowly nodded, "Very well." As he turned and left Gin' took a big step away from me and stomped out the door. Turning over my shoulder I smiled at the old woman,

"Well, that was fun wasn't it?" She said nothing as I left, Gin's brothers' and the girls continued to stare open-mouthed at me.

**17th Green Moon – Gin'iro, aged 10**

I hope the bastard contracts the Black Plague and dies a long and excruciating death. I hope that all his hair falls out and he'll be as bald as an egg, I giggled loudly at the thought of Dilandau running around with no hair. I bet he has a bumpy head too. The more I thought about it the harder I laughed. As my giggles subsided I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes and carefully examined my right hand. The bruises have faded and the pain long since gone, but the memory isn't. The look that burned in his eyes as he twisted my hand is imprinted on my memory; I have never been so scared in my entire life. And he knew it, like a dog he could feel my fear as it turned my blood cold. Shaking my head I tried to rid myself of such thoughts, and I sat up from the hay bale. After breakfast I had snuck out of the castle and run across the fields to an old barn that was no longer used. I was up in the loft lying on a bale of hay with my legs dangling off the edge. As I continued to examine my hand I heard the door slam shut and loud cursing. I leaned over the edge to see Dilandau shaking the snow from his head, _Bald as an egg Dilandau' I_ had to force that image out of my mind and I glared down at him,

"What are _you_ doing here?" I snapped. His head whipped round and he glared at me,

"Trying to get away from you." He snarled at me, I allowed myself a slow smile and lay back down, my legs still dangling,

"Looks like you failed." I yelled down at him.

What was to follow that statement was something that I never really understood and certainly never forgot. At the sound of wood cracking I shot up, the platform beneath me shattered with an unholy force, I screamed as I fell from the roof. Splinters of wood showered me as I plummeted towards the concrete floor. I landed with a shuddering jolt onto a bale of hay; my body shook with fear and surprise. What the hell had happened? I lay there paralysed with shock; the soft noise of dark chuckling reached my ears as I raised my head,

"What was that?" I whispered.

Dilandau's smile as he looked down at me froze my blood; his eyes had a glint of bloodlust in them, his lips pulled back in a feral smirk. He crouched down beside me and leaned his elbows on his thighs,

"That was my power." He whispered.

"Your what?" I stammered. He stood and looked down at me,

"Would you like a demonstration?" He turned away from me and faced the large barn doors. The small hairs on the back of my neck pricked up as something dark stirred between us. The dust on the ground swirled outwards from Dilandau's feet and doors shattered as I screamed. The cold wind blew in, the blizzard of white flakes filling the barn. I fell off the bale and backed away from Dilandau. I couldn't believe it; I refused to believe what I saw. _It was just the wind. Just the wind. He didn't do it. _He crossed the wood littered ground, as I tried to get away from him; he hauled me to my feet and gripped my wrists in a vice-like grip. His eyes burned into mine as I wriggled, trying to free myself. With one swift jerk from him, I stopped wriggling and bit my lips, trying to hold back the tears that pricked at my eyes.

"That was my power little girl." He snarled, "And if you continue to irritate me, I'll do _that_ to you." He threatened with a toss of his head in the direction of the now gaping hole in the wall of the barn. He threw me back to the ground and stormed out into the swirling blizzard. I dropped to my knees and the warm tears slid down my cheeks freezing in the cold. I shook with the cold and fear; it was the second time that he had made me fear from my life. Shakily getting to my feet I wiped at my cheeks and left the barn back to the safety of the castle.

I couldn't wait till Dilandau left my home.

**1st Purple Moon – Dilandau, aged 10 **

Finally after several long and tedious moons of living in the same castle as that brat I can return to the Black Dragons. I was awoken rather rudely this morning by one of the servants, and told that Folken had ordered my return, and not a moment too soon.

I was standing next to my steed waiting for my escort to get his arse in gear. I didn't see the need for someone to nurse me on the journey back to the capital, but I got the feeling that Folken was doing it more for the protection of others. I smirked and checked the stirrups of the saddle. Turning over my shoulder I saw my bumbling escort snivelling up to the king. My eyes wandered to the figure at the king's side. Gin'iro glared at me and folded her arms; I flashed a horrible smile before mounting my stallion.

Finally the old fool tore himself away from the king and slowly hauled his fat body into the saddle. My steed pulled against the reins, desperate to stretch his legs and get into the plains, after being cooped up for so long I couldn't blame him.

"Until next time!" He yelled cheerily and I rolled my eyes. If I had my way, I'd never come back here again.

My steed tossed his head, wanting to run, kicking my heels in he broke out into a gallop. As I rode out of the gates I never once looked back.

**13th Purple Moon, Gin'iro, aged 11 **

How many times will this go on? How many times will I be awoken by the howl of rage that rips through these halls? Why, for once, can't the Gods do me a favour and kill Rafe? I don't think I can handle it much longer. He hates me; I know that each and every time he looks at me he's contemplating a torturous death for me.

It's not my fault! I didn't _ask_ to be heir to the throne; I didn't _ask_ to have my hopes and dreams for the future to be ripped away from me! I don't _want_ to be married off to some fool before my twentieth, and I sure as hell don't want to pop out sons just to provide another heir to the legacy.

And as if the Gods aren't quite satisfied that fool Dilandau is on his way back here. Great! I can't wait to have my life threatened by another idiot and have my fingers crushed. I think I might hide while he's here…No! Actually I won't; I'm not going to let him get the better of me…

**20th Purple Moon, Dilandau, aged 12 **

Back again. I'm back in this backwater of a country with a stupid king and his irritating daughter. I keep thinking of ways to get out of this…maybe disappear for a few moons? As appealing as that is, if Folken heard about it he'd inflict pain on me. I hate it here, but it's not worth getting all my limbs broken.

I think I might be able to keep myself entertained by annoying the Princess…maybe test out some new skills on her too…

**5th Yellow Moon – Gin'iro, aged 15**

Today father took me to a tournament. It was a pretty sunny day, there were very little women there and as usual I was coddled by Daddy and had an entire squadron of guards around me at all times…well maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but sometimes that's what it feels like. They suffocate me! No matter where I go there will always be another behind me, they think that I can't see them. I'm not blind! Honestly, if I, a mere fifteen-year-old girl, can spot them from a near costa away, what hope do they have against any assassins?!

Kira put up her strongest objection to date when she heard that Daddy was taking me to the tournament, _"A young Princess in amongst all those uncouth barbarians? Your Majesty please, I beg of you, you must reconsider!"_

That woman! You'd think that I was a frail and pathetic china doll the way she 'wraps me in silk', sometimes I wish I could just run away from it all…sometimes I wish I could be one of those young maids that run about the castle, they have no one constantly on their tails tracking them down. Those girls are free to leave the castle grounds and go to parties…_real_ parties not the stupid gatherings that as a Princess I'm forced to attend. But then I feel guilty for thinking in such a way, I am luckier than them in a way; I live in a large comfortable home, I have a loving family (well almost) and never go without food, or anything for that matter…in short I'm a spoilt ungrateful brat…and yet I yearn for _freedom_.

But I digress, today at the tournament Daddy and I were up in the balcony and I have to admit as much as I love to watch such events, this one was rather dull. That Allen Schezar, the Knight Caeli, the one that my father refers to as "The Great Ponce" was the strong favourite, at one point I heard the guards placing bets on how long it would take him to strike down his latest opponent. For a while I thought I would ungracefully fall asleep in my chair. However after the 'ponce' had defeated all his opponents I saw a familiar slash of silver in amongst the crowd of participants. I leaned so far over the edge of the balcony that Daddy grabbed the back folds of my gown to prevent me from falling off the edge. At first I didn't think that it was him, but then, who else on Gaia would have hair such a colour? And who else would have such an air of arrogance? When I asked Daddy if it was who I thought it was, he smiled in such a way that I felt uncomfortable and overly girlish. He said that it was, and the announcement confirmed it.

Dilandau Albatou.

How long has it been since I've seen him? Two years now, and yet the boy managed to leave a distinct impression on me. From then on I was glued to the floor of the arena, I watched each and every move, he defeated his enemies with a skill and speed that has never been seen before. As the last man fell to his blade he straightened and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow, he sheathed his sword and strode over to the base of where we sat, bowing extravagantly he grinned darkly at my father, Daddy addressed him, but I didn't hear his words. I couldn't believe how much he had changed over the years! The last time I bid good riddance to him he was a fairly scrawny boy, now he stood before me dressed in full armour and there was a hint of his muscles under his uniform. I stared at Dilandau so long and hard that I almost bore a hole into him. Suddenly I became aware of crimson eyes staring straight back at me, I gulped and lost that polished surface that I have spent years in training to obtain, my cheeks went pink, any coherent words jammed somewhere between my brain and my vocal chords, the roof of my mouth going as dry as the deserts. Gods! I looked like a fool!

He bowed slightly, "Princess Gin'iro." He spoke smoothly and looked up at me under his silver bangs. For a moment I had no words, I couldn't remember his title!!

"Lord Albatou." I finally managed to utter, tilting my head down just a little, by the time my head came back up, he had turned and was marching back across the arena. The look upon Allen Schezar's face was priceless!

**3rd Green Moon – Dilandau (18) & Gin'iro (17)**

_Exactly one moon before the Dragon War_

Dilandau turned to the imposing Emperor of the Black Dragons and raised a silver brow,

"You want me to _what_?" He asked, incredulous.

Folken turned away from the window of the floating fortress and grinned at the young General. "You heard me Dilandau, it's all arranged, we're nearly there, and I'm sure after your absence Princess Gin'iro will be glad to see you."

Anger surged through him and he closed in on Folken, "I am not doing it!" He snarled. Folken lashed out with a telekinetic hand and gripped at the man's throat,

"You would do well to respect your elders Dilandau." He raged, "You forget who gave you your position as a Dragonslayer. You _will_ do this, am I making myself clear?" Dark, mismatched eyes flashed angrily at Dilandau. He struggled against the tightening hold and glared at Folken, releasing a blow of his own, Folken stumbled back and Dilandau dropped to his feet. Rubbing his throat he glared at the older man, before he could react Folken used his powers to strike the silver-haired General. His head snapped to the side, blood running out his mouth,

"You will do it!" Folken's voice seething with a quiet, dangerous anger.

Rubbing his jaw Dilandau spun on his heel and stormed out the room, "Fine." He muttered angrily under his breath.

The floating fortress slowly lowered closer to the ground, long steel cables dropped from the sides and the men at the bottom secured them to the ground. Dilandau strode out of the hanger with his men at his heels. His blood red eyes narrowed sharply as he spotted the royal welcome. King Korechika straightened his collar and stepped forward to the General.

"Good to see you again, General Albatou." He reached his hand out to shake, and Dilandau's eyes dropped to his hand then rose again. He fixed the king with a cold look and folded his arms over his chest. Korechika raised a brow and let his hand fall back to his side, Gods he was a right arrogant little bastard. Turning his back on the _boy_ the great king led the way to the mounts that waited to take them to the castle. Mounting his horse Dilandau sharply kicked the sides of the mount and pulled his stallion to the front of the royal assembly. Korechika shook his head and sucked a deep breath in through his clenched jaw. The procession wound its way through the hills towards the capital of Hadrian with Dilandau at the front, the King behind him and the Dragonslayers behind and the king's advisors brining up the rear.

Dilandau entered the castle before everyone else, his boots cracking off the polished marble floor. He looked positively livid, his brows angled down over his sharpened blood-red eyes. As he marched towards the throne room he was mulling over Folken's orders. He was not a…an escort for hire!

The young doormen before him quickly opened the doors and cringed at the look of unrestrained anger on his face.

Gin'iro looked up as the doors opened, and her lips curved into a small smile. She stepped down from the dais where her father's throne sat and patiently waited for Dilandau to make his way further into the room. He raised his head, watching the woman that was standing at the base of his throne. He frowned slightly as he got closer; she seemed so familiar yet he was fairly sure that he hadn't met her before. As he stopped a few feet before her recognition slapped him in the face. _It's that little brat Gin'iro! _

The youngest royal stood before him, the scrawny brat of two winters ago had blossomed into the young woman whose presence dominated the room. Her silvery-blue hair was twisted into a loose bun, wayward strands falling about her face and eyes. Her dark eyes glittered as her lips shifted into a reserved smile, taking a step forward she held her hand out to him and looked him right in the eye,

"General, it's been a long time since you have graced us with your presence." She smiled sweetly, her pleasant words laced with sarcasm.

Dilandau looked down at her hand and caught in his red gloved one,

"Princess." He grated out through his clenched teeth. He didn't kiss her hand and she hadn't expected him to, her gaze shifted past him as her father and his advisors strode into the room. Her father looked red in the face, she guessed from Dilandau's audacity and the fact that he had to run through the castle.

She removed her hand from his and smiled at her father, the king stopped beside Gin' and took her arm, "I see you've re-acquainted yourself with the General."

She smiled although she was glaring at Dilandau, "Of course, he is our guest after all."

Dilandau snorted loudly and folded his arms over his armoured chest. Gin' turned her head to the men that marched in, they were in uniform almost the same as Dilandau's yet they were in blue to his red. Dilandau turned his back to the royals and growled out some order to his fierce looking man-beast lieutenant. The insubordinate saluted then turned the others following him out in a rigid line.

He turned back to them and Gin' stepped forward, "If you'll follow me General, I'll take you to your chambers." Without waiting she turned with her dark dress swishing at her ankles as she quickly made her way out of the room. Dilandau turned and marched behind her, quickly catching up with her. They remained in silence as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder along the thick-carpeted halls. As they got to his door, Dilandau stepped past her and pushed the door open. She followed him in and watched as he surveyed the room. She frowned at him,

"What are you looking for?"

He turned over his shoulder, "The escape route." He stated in a flat, yet icy tone.

She raised her eyebrows, "Pity burst your bubble General Albatou; but I want you here as much as I want a hole in my head."

A lazy smirk turned up the corner of his lips, "Is that so, Princess?" There was a hint in his voice that told Gin' he wouldn't mind helping her along with that statement.

She gave him a rather acidic smile before turning away, "I'll see you tonight, General."

He grunted in response as she closed the door behind her.

"I'll get you for this Folken." He hissed under his breath.

Gin' looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed her hands over the soft fabric of the dress. Her seamstress had outdone herself this time. The dark purple silk fell in sleek lines down to the floor; swishing against the marble floors as she twirled in front of the mirror. The scooped neck showed off a bit more cleavage than was acceptable but Gin' didn't really mind. Her long hair had been piled on top of her head in loose curls, the silver tiara sat across her forehead, small-imbedded jewels sparkling in the candlelight. As her maid bustled around her she clasped the choker around her neck, the delicate platinum strands shifted against the soft skin of her neck and the amethyst stones glittered as she touched them gently with her manicured nails.

"Milady." A voice called from the doorway, Gin'iro turned,

"Yes?"

The maid came into the room and Gin' noted that she looked flustered and a little scared,

"The General is waiting for you Princess, and ma'am…he doesn't look happy."

Gin' rolled her dark eyes and pulled the black, fur-lined cloak around her shoulders,

"The General is never happy." She muttered.

Dilandau stood in the hall and scowled to himself. Typical, the woman was running late, he couldn't believe that Folken was forcing him to do this. Anger burned through his veins as he thought of Folken, his hand twitched, nearly rising to rub his bruised throat.

He knew why he was doing this.

The sounds of a heavy wooden door scraping across the marble floor caused him to raise his head.

"Princess Gin'iro." The boy announced before silently closing the door behind the Princess. Gin' crossed the floor of the Great Hall and stopped a few feet short of the General. Not bothering to take in her appearance, Dilandau turned round and strode out the opposite end of the hall. Scowling under her cowl, Gin followed him, having to almost run to keep up with the General's lengthy strides.

The journey from the palace to the tournament was a quiet affair. Gin' kept her hood up and stared blankly out the window at the winter landscape as it drifted by in flashes of white and black. Dilandau sat in the carriage across from her. He was uncomfortable travelling in this stuffy contraption; he'd much rather be galloping on his warhorse, but this had been another of Folken's demands. His crimson eyes rose to the hooded figure across from him. She was going out of her way to ignore him, never looking or speaking to him. Not that he cared, the less contact the better as far as he was concerned. As soon as this night was over he was leaving Hadrian and never coming back again.

As the carriage came to a juddering stop, Dilandau jumped out and scornfully eyed the people that milled outside the estate. Behind him Gin' cleared her throat irritably and he glanced over his shoulder,

"What? Do you want me to carry you out or something?" He sneered, one silver eyebrow raised at her frown.

"For once Dilandau, could you please just make things easy?" Her tone was terse as she fixed her dark eyes on the soldier. Dilandau grimaced and held a gloved hand out to her, she took it and stepped out of the carriage, the thick folds of her dress gripped in the other. As they made their way into the estate to watch the tournament, Dilandau offered Gin' his arm. Looking up at him with barely concealed surprise and suspicion she linked her arm through his, resting her gloved hand on his armoured forearm.

Leaning close to her ear he softly breathed, "I _never_ make things easy, Princess."

Gin' fidgeted in her seat in the royal box and with bored eyes scanned the audience for anything interesting. The tournament was turning out to be tedious; the whole affair was so…_dignified_. The participants all looked like they were trying out for ballet classes or were Caeli Knights in training. Letting out a loud sigh she turned to her right and saw that the General was as impressed as her. His arm rested on the chair with his armoured fist pressed to his mouth. One eyebrow was slightly raised as he regarded the fight before him with nothing short of disgust. Gin' let out another sigh and returned her gaze to the fight. She must have missed the last fight, as the crowd politely clapped and the swordsmen bowed. Some girls threw flowers down to the men and Gin' rolled her eyes as she noticed one man stand out from the rest.

"Allen Schezar." She muttered under her breath, Dilandau grunted and rose to his feet.

The General made his way down the winding staircase to the main hall in front of the Princess of Hadrian. He smirked as her soft cursing at her shoes caused a few of the lesser nobles' heads to turn. Blocking their escape to the door was the lady of the house. Geneva Wilton clasped her heavily jewelled hands together at the sight of the heir to the throne and quickly crossed over to them.

"Oh no…" Gin'iro stepped behind the taller General and hoped that Lady Wilton would pass her by.

No such luck.

"Princess Gin'iro!" Gin' cringed as Dilandau moved to the side, and she shot him a non too impressed glare from the corner of her eyes, one which he retorted to with a slow smirk.

"Lady Wilton." Gin' greeted as the older woman curtseyed low to the floor and dropped her head.

"I trust you enjoyed the tournament Milady?"

Gin' cleared her throat and put on a polite, yet fake, smile. "Of course, it was most…entertaining."

Lady Wilton smiled triumphantly, glad to have pleased royalty, something that Gin' cynically thought would be rehashed again and again at every single social event and tea party for several moons to come.

Gin' found her hand enwrapped with the elder woman's as she was directed towards a huddle of well dressed and polished women. In the centre she could see a ribbon of gold and the ruffles of a pristine white shirt. _Oh no-no-no! Not Schezar, oh Gods anything but this!_

As Lady Wilton dragged the unwilling royal over to the Knight Caeli, she turned back to the General and spoke to him in a tone that would most likely bring about her death.

"Of course, Princess your guard is more than welcome to refresh himself…in the servants' kitchen." Her small eyes travelled across his armour, coming to a halt at his sword before turning back to the Princess.

Dilandau snarled and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. Gin' pulled her hand away and gave the old woman a cold look,

"Lady Wilton, may I introduce you to General Dilandau Albatou, the General of the Black Dragon's elite cavalry unit, and a good friend of the King." She was lying about the last part and they both knew it, but still it was worth it to see the look on the old bat's face as the colour visibly drained and she nervously wrung her hands.

"General Albatou please forgive me, I did not know. Why of course you're not a mere guard, just looking at your attire, one could see that you are a man of high status." She nervously babbled, bowing to the seething General. Dilandau glared down at her with burning crimson eyes, in the long silence that followed, Geneva began to squirm under his glare and paled to a point where she too could have been an albino.

Gin' couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the older woman and stepped between the two, ignoring the irritation of the General.

"Lady Wilton, it has been a pleasure to meet you again, but alas the King doesn't like his youngest to be out so late, and the General must leave tomorrow."

Lady Wilton bowed as Gin' smiled sweetly and gave Dilandau a look as she turned. Before he followed her out the door, he gave the old woman one last glare then strode out the room.

The ride back to the palace, Gin' blatantly ignored Dilandau and stared angrily out at the black night. He lets his eyes come to a rest on the gems that rested above her pulse. He could see them move and glitter in the dim light with each breath she took. His breath began to quicken as he became fixated on the pulse that throbbed just beneath the creamy skin of her neck. Dilandau's temperature rose as his heart pounded in his ears, clenching his fists he willed himself to look away. His heart was running at a mile a minute as he watched her chest heave with each breath. Clenching his jaw, he drew all his will power together and pulled his eyes away to find himself staring back at burning purple pools. Gin's breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked with Dilandau's crimson eyes. His head was swimming, as all he could see was her eyes that bore a hole into him, they were so dark, almost black in the light.

They were so close now, the space of mere inches between their lips filled with their quick breathing. His gaze dropped to her lips, and then lazily rose back to her unblinking eyes. Gin' tried to find her voice, and break whatever spell was being held over them, yet she couldn't. All she could see was his entrancing eyes, she watched as his pupils expanded, the black swallowing crimson irises. His eyes held a fire that burned her to the core and caused a heat to rise to her pale cheeks. Everything around them faded, as all she could feel was his breath as it tingled across her lips.

Outside the driver tried to control the horses as they cantered over the frozen and rocky ground, the front horse stumbled over a large rock and the wheels of the carriage bounced, causing the carriage to wobble to the side.

Gin's eyelids slowly dropped as Dilandau's face came ever closer to hers, the heat of his breath burning her lips and sending tingles up her spine as she felt his lips barley graze hers.

Suddenly the carriage jolted to the side and her eyes flew open. For a split-miet she and Dilandau stared at each other. Her eyes slowly widening as she realised what they had come so close to doing. He blinked, his pupils sharply shrinking and sat back from, now glaring darkly at her his eyes no longer burning as before, but were now ice-cold. Another shiver crawled up her spine, but for an entirely different reason.

Swallowing she sat back and resumed staring out the window at the nearing castle, her mind spinning at the questions that barraged her mind. _What would have happened if the carriage hadn't wobbled like that?_

* * *

**_To be continued… _**

**Notes: **1) ****_'Kokkan Ten' _very loosely means _'depth of winter celebration' _(in other words; Christmas), I apologise for my terrible Japanese. 2) White Moon is December in our calendar – or at least here it is .

Edited 30/05/04


	3. Two: Crimson Tears

Again, much thanks to those who have reviewed.

_One year after the Dragon War… _

_Chapter Two: Crimson Tears _

A bulbous ball of glowing orange sharply descended into the horizon. A strip of red across the horizon was all that remained of daylight soon the night would come. The rush of adrenaline was gone, leaving him cold, the spasms of his muscles hidden under the dark crimson armour. Slow beads of sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades, silver strands sticking to his brow. His gloved hands wet with a warm sticky liquid, the same substance that was spattered across his white overlay. His lips curled into a sneer as something dark stirred in him at the thought of the elixir of life. The demon within had been sated by today's bloodshed.

General Albatou stared into the horizon, at the small mound of sun as it surrendered to the night, the intense light burned into his brain, he stared at it unblinking until his eyes itched to blink and white spots danced in front of him. This was what he lived for, the rush of war. Death. To unleash the power that course through his veins. He was a God. Not just any god, the Devil incarnate, and he would destroy anything and anyone that defied him. The carnage that decorated the battlefield was evidence to that fact. Stretching from his armoured boots out onto the ridge of the land, the bodies of the slain littered the ground. A malevolent smile twisted his features as Dilandau admired his handiwork. He raised his sword to regard it carefully. The perfect length of steel glinted, reflecting the fading light of the sun, looking as though it were dipped in blood.

He sheathed his sword and turned back to his men that were waiting for him expectantly,

"Gatti!" He barked, his second-in-command was at his side in an instant,

"General?"

"We're leaving, we'll set up camp some costa from here, I don't want to be riding through the night." Dilandau vaulted gracefully onto his warhorse and turned his mount in an eastern direction,

"Move out!"

* * *

Laboured breathing whispered from the far side of the large chamber. A strange, sickly sweet scent drifted over to the Princess as she stood at the covered window of the King's chambers. It was an overpowering odour that made her think of hospitals and vials full of foul smelling liquids.

At her nod the doctor packed up his bag, taking glass bottles filled with purple, green and clear liquids, checking the stoppers and then carefully, almost lovingly placed them in his worn brown bag.

Gin'iro turned to her father, lain in his large bed. His head propped up on several plush pillows, his once powerful body, lying frail, pinned to the bed under the heavy, exquisitely embroidered quilts. Swallowing back her tears, the heir to the throne fixed weary and dull purple eyes upon the doctor,

"Your diagnosis Doctor."

The older man sighed, his long fingers anxiously playing with a loose thread upon his dark green jacket.

"My Princess, the fever has gripped the King much worse that ever before…" he trailed off and crossed over to her, taking her shaking hands in his and looking upon her with warm and concerned brown eyes, "Your father is weak Gin'iro, too long he has been fighting this now, his body is tired. I do not believe that he has the strength…or the will to win this battle." His soft words shattered Gin' within, her aching heart shattered into tiny shards. She held her head up, holding the tears back till she was alone, fighting valiantly to maintain her composed exterior. With a brisk nod and a blink to hold back her tears she gestured for the doctor to leave.

Smoothing her hands over the dusky grey dress she sat on the high-backed chair placed next to her father's bed. A long and weary sigh left her cracked and dry lips.

The King of Hadrian was dying. In the most crucial moons of the Dragon War it had been a hacking cough that had caused the advisors to exchange worried glances. From then on the physical condition of the King had deteriorated each and every day. Doctor after doctor had come and gone. None had helped; concoctions, injections, potions, even witch doctors and spells had been used in an attempt to heal the King, and all had failed.

Her eyes took in the once strong man before her; his skin had lost the golden tone, now mostly ash-grey with patches of a yellowish tint across his body; his cheeks had sunk into his face, the well defined cheekbones now protruding like spears. Gin' rubbed her face with her hands before leaning her elbows on the edge of the large bed. The sight before her destroyed Gin', hot tears of anger and pain stung at her eyes; blinking rapidly she forced them back. She would not cry as the shadow of the once powerful man before her, she would remain strong for him.

Worry and fear weighed heavily on her heart. Her father didn't have long left, and when he lost his last battle, Gin's would begin. At the tender age of eighteen she would become the ruler of one of the most powerful countries upon all of Gaia. She would be forced to marry, probably some dolt that would suppress her and squander away all that her father had worked so hard for. She knew the types of men that the advisors had already suggested for her, pretty boys severely lacking in substance. The types of men that wanted the privileges of being a King but not the responsibilities. She guessed that within a moon's marriage to such a baka, the advisors would be ruling the country while her 'husband' was fed grapes as Gin' added another stitch to the tapestry.

A pained moan brought her out of her wallowing. Startled she looked at her father, Korechika stirred in his sleep, not even in slumber could he find any peace. His body tensed the weak muscles convulsing in spasms then went limp again, his breathing returning to the strained rhythm of before. His daughter reached out with shaking hands and tucked the quilts under his chin, and then pulled the blanket around her shoulders as she prepared for another night's vigil.

Gin'iro had switched into an almost automatic mode when she had learnt of her father's ailing condition. When her father had become bed-ridden she had taken control of the country without anyone knowing of the King's condition. If Rafe ever got wind of his father's inevitable death, then he would be back at their doorstep, and knowing Rafe as she did, Gin' was willing to bet that Rafe would decree himself as King before their father's body was cold in his grave. Such a thought chilled her to the bone.

Only Gin' the royal advisors and doctors knew of the King's failing health, she mentally totalled it up to be about fifteen people. All had been sworn to secrecy, with the added threat that if they even breathed a word Gin' would personally hunt them down and squeeze their necks until their eyes popped right out of their sockets. It was crude yet she found it to have the desired effect.

As Gin' listened to the lonely ticking of the Grandfather clock in her father's adjoining lounge her thoughts turned to her brothers. A pang of guilt wracked her body as Gin' thought of Nobu. He deserved to know about their father, all of her brothers (save Rafe) deserved to have the chance to see their father one last time. She was torn in two; on one hand she could never allow anyone else to know about the King's mortality. If anyone were to find out she wouldn't be able to fend off anyone who would usurp the throne. On the other hand, as much as it sickened and saddened her to think, she didn't trust her brothers. Even Nobu…the brother that she was closest to, he couldn't know. He'd hate her, never forgive such a silence, none of them would. It pained her but she knew that it was necessary.

Yet she knew that such a task of leading a country was one that she could not do alone; she knew of politics and economics, but warfare was not something she knew much about, leading an army was not her forte. Gin' knew that the moons following her crowning as Queen would be the worst and most trying of her life, the threat of war would be in the air and the army would need a strong leader. And at this point in time Gin' didn't trust the General of the armies of Hadrian as far as she could throw the armoured bastard.

Rising from the ornamental chair, Gin'iro stretched out her cramped limbs then soundlessly walked to the study. The silence was thick and suffocating, as if the very world held its breath, waiting for the inevitable. Lighting a lamp she rubbed her cold arms and sat at her father's bureau. What Gin' was bout to do was quite possibly the most stupidest and dangerous decision ever. Bearing this in mind she ignored the knots that ate at her stomach and dipped the feathered quill into a small pot of black ink. With a grim expression she wrote the letter, the scraping of the quill against the creamy paper echoing in the room. A source-less breeze made the lamp light flicker, causing frightening shadows to dance across her corner of the room.

Sitting back Gin' read the letter, only to scrunch it into a ball before the ink had dried. Squeezing it in her fist she threw it across the room, watching as it landed in the dying cinders of the fire, it curled and ignited, small red embers rose as the paper burnt all traces of the letter gone.

Three tries later she was satisfied with the words upon the page before her. Reading it over and over until the words were burned into her brain as the black ink dried. Holding a length of red wax over a dancing flame, Gin' then pressed the melted wax to the closed envelope before brandishing the outside with the royal seal.

Rising to her feet, Gin' left her father momentarily to find an errand runner. At this late hour of the night she knew it would be difficult. After nearly an hour of roaming the corridors of the castle she found a young boy in the kitchens. He stopped mid-bite and stared at her, before he could open his mouth to stutter, she held up a hand silencing him.

"Here, I want you to take this directly to the man addressed on the front. Take one of the royal steeds if you wish, and all the rations you may need. I don't care as long as this reaches this man before the 3rd sunset. No one else is to read this but him, is that clear?" She asked, a sharp edge to her voice.

The boy gulped and took the thin letter and nodded.

"Y-yes Princess."

With a sharp nod and a twirl of dark material the Princess was gone.

* * *

While Gin'iro returned to her father's chambers across Gaia one man paced the cramped length of his.

Rafe seethed angrily, his irate strides offset by his limp. Today's meeting had not gone well, Rafe's petition for him to be a representative of the country had been refused before he'd even finished his convoluted speech. The King had waved his hand and the meeting had moved on. At the thought of his father-in-law, his thin lips curled into a vicious sneer. The King of this backwater country was a fat idiot, and Rafe's wife, the king's daughter, was a bony-elbowed simpleton.

This was not what he had expected, when Rafe had been informed of his impending marriage to Tira, Princess of Rya, Rafe had mental pictures of him sitting upon the throne of a powerful country. What he had gotten was an idiot of a wife and a small apartment in the castle of a tiny country. He had imagined that this marriage would have been an easy access to power. However the reality was not so. Rya was a small country of absolutely no consequence. The total population was smaller than that of the capital of Hadrian alone, the army small and untrained. It rapidly came clear to Rafe that his father had in fact sold him off to another country so that Korechika wouldn't have to worry about his son and his intentions. It made him sick, to think that _he_, the first-born _son_ was Prince of some shit-hole while the youngest _daughter_ was next in line to the throne of a powerful country. It just wasn't _right_. He swung out with a clenched fist and sent a sculpted vase flying across the room, watching as it shattered against the near wall.

A gasp from the bed made Rafe whirl round, wobbling due to the drink and the stiffness of his leg. Narrow eyes fixed on the Princess, his _wife_ Rafe thought with unconcealed disgust.

"Come to bed…?" She asked tentatively, wary of his words and fists.

"Fuck off." He spat.

* * *

General Albatou glared across the camp of his men. The job had gone well, at the least by Dilandau's standards. In other words the enemy were all dead. Since the end of the Dragon War the Ryuugekitai and their General had wandered the lands of Gaia. Most recently a Lord of a fairly big county had 'hired' Dilandau and his men to take down a rival warlord and his soldiers. As much as Dilandau despised and loathed his current lifestyle, it had given him the chance to build up his Ryuu' to 15 men. Pride and disgust aside it was a job; relatively good pay for his men and an objective for Dilandau to focus on. Lately his restlessness had been building day after day. Not to mention the fact that it allowed him to instigate to some serious bloodshed.

It was a biting cold night in the forest, yet Dilandau was too preoccupied to notice, or even care. The uninformed simpleton that had 'hired' the Demon General and his men believed that he had Dilandau under his control. And thus, had sent orders for Dilandau to return immediately. A cold smirk spread across the albino's face as he thought of the various yet deliciously painful ways in which to rid him of the fool. _If he thinks I'm going to take such disrespect then he can just get down on his knees and suck my-_

"Lord Dilandau!" Sharp crimson eyes moved away from the shadows and fixed upon the approaching Gatti.

The ash blond bowed then gestured to the panting boy just behind the Dragonslayer. In his gloved hand Gatti gave his Lord a letter.

"The boy says that it's for your eyes only sir, I told him you were not to be disturbed but he was adamant."

Dilandau dismissed him with a curt nod; Gatti saluted then took the boy off to give him some water. Disregarding the front and the seal of the letter Dilandau ripped it open and carefully read the elegant writing across the page in the light of the fire.

A blink was the only visible reaction to the contents of the letter. Folding it back up he placed it his white overlay and yelled for his second. Gatti appeared at his side,

"Lord Dilandau?"

"Gatti prepare the men. At the first sign of dawn we are leaving to go north."

Gatti blinked his dark aquamarine eyes in surprise, "North sir? But the councilman is in the east; if we don't show up he'll be most unhappy. Think of-"

Dilandau whirled round and lifted Gatti off his feet and into his burning line of sight,

"Gatti think of my boot; and take your backside out of reach of it." He snarled warningly.

"Y-yes sir." Gatti bowed then left Dilandau to scowl into the darkness of the forest, his mind running over and over the contents of the letter.

* * *

**_To be continued…_**

****Edited 30/05/04


	4. Three: Black Riders

_"Blood for face, sweat for dirt,   
three X's for the stone.  
To break this curse, a ritual's due.  
I believe I'm not alone."_

_Chapter 3: Black Riders _

Her muscles were aching as she rose from the chair; another night's sleep had been fitful and brief, as she had curled herself into the chair next to her father's bed. Standing she slowly stretched out her muscles and yawned, Gin's eyes felt gritty and sore with the lack of sleep. She rubbed them as she crossed the darkened room to open the curtains. Sliding them apart a few inches, ice blue sky filled her vision, blinking against the assault of piercing light she yawned and stared out across the land. Her father's bedroom was located on the eastern wing, his window facing north - towards the great forests. Above the snow-capped mountains she could see a hazy red glow as the sun struggled to rise and bathe the frozen land with golden light. _Not that it would make any difference these days._

Gin'iro turned away from the window, preparing herself for another long day of looking over her shoulder and plastering that fake and painfully happy smile upon her face. She felt so worn out these days, so lethargic, like she was an old woman who had lived a long and trying life. She didn't feel like a young and healthy princess, she felt…used and spent.

Stopping to look at herself in the mirror, she crinkled her nose in disgust. She was not a particularly vain woman although in her position she knew that it was best to be 'presentable' in all circumstances. And she knew that in order for her pull off the lies that she had been spinning she needed to look healthy, needed to convince every one that nothing was wrong within the great country of Hadrian. She wouldn't be able to wander round the castle looking like she did today, as if she'd slept in a heap, which of course she actually had. Leaning closer to the mirror, Gin' pulled at her cheeks, pale lips turning down in disgust. Her normally vibrant eyes were dull, smudged with grey clouds, red veins snaking towards the irises. As she continued to pull and push her cheeks around, the doctor came in.

"Milady, I must insist that you get some rest and eat something. Continuing this way will only make you ill." He spoke over his shoulder; loving hands removed the vials from his bag and placed them in a neat row on the bedside table. The Princess watched him, a slight frown creasing her brow. For fleeting moment doubt seeped into her mind, how did she know that she could trust this man? Her tired eyes suddenly became dark as she watched the doctor remove stoppers from long thin bottles and drip their dark viscous contents into a bowl and stir them with a long silver spoon. The scratching noise grated on her nerves as she watched him ever closer. The small trickle of mistrust was steadily turning into a river that soaked through her. The potions and medicines that he gave to her father, for all she knew they could be making him worse, hell they could have been what started it in the first place. She regarded him carefully, watching the way he encouraged the King to part his lips as he held the cup to him, the medication filling his mouth before he swallowed on a reflex.

Gin' realised that she was being overly paranoid, the Royal Doctor was trusted by her Father, and had cared for all the Royal children when they had been ill. But still she made a mental note to keep an eye on the Doctor, every man had his price she could be sure of that. In the back of her mind, in the shadows where she pushed all her negative thoughts and doubt, she wondered how long it would be till the Doctor was paid his price and betrayed her and the King.

Feeling her eyes bore into his back the doctor turned round, his face showing his surprise at being faced by the glaring Princess and the cold hard look in her eyes. The edges sharpened, purple flashing as she pinned him to the spot.

"Make my father comfortable." Her voice was as icy as the sub-zero weather outside making the doctor nervous. She ignored his repetitive nods as she left the room and slipped into hers unnoticed.

Firmly locking the door behind her she crossed the large lounge and silently walked into the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. Her bare feet whispering across the tiled floor, turning the taps upon the claw-footed bathtub she ran some bath lotion under the steady stream of hot water. Closing the door behind her and locking it, she shed her crumpled silk dress and left it in a heap in the corner. Stepping into the bath she winced as the sensitive skin of her feet came into contact with the hot water.

Sinking deep into the water she leaned back and closed her weary eyes. The relaxing scent of lavender drifted through the steamy room, her breathing deepened as she slipped into a near sleep.

A faint click made her eyes snap open, her body going rigid in the hot water as she slowly sat up. The water slowly rippled around her as she strained to hear even the slightest noise. Holding her breath Gin's eyes darted about the bathroom looking for anything that she could use as a weapon, if she was to be attacked she couldn't imagine a loofa doing much damage.

As silently as she could Gin' stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a thick robe. Tip-toeing over to the door, she pressed her ear against the heavy oak door and held her breath, listening intently for the sounds of an intruder in her chambers. Her heart rate picked up and began to pound in her ears as she held her breath. Slowly reaching out for the door knob she picked up a flower filled vase and steeling herself for what was to come, threw open the door and looked about her room wildly.

There was nothing.

Rolling her eyes at herself Gin' let out the breath that she had been holding and firmly locked the bathroom door behind her. Not bothering to get back into the tub she quickly dressed in black trousers, knee-high boots made of stiff leather were pulled over the tight trousers, a warm white cotton shirt was buttoned up to her neck and a knee length heavy suede jacket was worn over the top. The collar was high, and the fitted waist showing off her already trim waist. At the back and front there was a slit in the jacket making the flaps swish against her thighs as she walked.

Gin' pulled her long silver hair back into two separate braids and tossed them over her shoulder. Taking a brief look in the lightly steamed mirror she knew that she didn't resemble a royal daintily swishing through the palace in great folds of rich fabrics. Today she had meetings with the advisors and a long afternoon planned in the library. She knew that the other people that would see her in such a 'risky' outfit would not be too surprised. She knew that when the servants and dignitaries thought she couldn't hear them they whispered about the youngest royal being something of a hoyden.

Leaving her room the Princess nodded to her two guards and allowed one to walk ahead of her and the other behind as she made her way to her father's council room. The walk down the long corridors and up the great flights of marble steps was quiet and pensive for Gin'iro. It had been little over 2 days since she had sent the messenger and the important note. The boy had returned in the late hours of the previous night, he had no news of the General, only that the letter had been delivered and that the General had ordered the boy to return to Hadrian and ensure that the arrival of the Dragonslayers and their General was prepared for. The last statement had made Gin' scowl and mutter a choice phrase under her breath. She had dismissed the boy and made him swear his silence.

Upon reaching the doors of the council chambers Gin' motioned for the guards to take their positions at the door and swung open the doors. A long dark wooden table dominated the large room. Shafts of the morning sun streamed through the larger windows, small particles of dust danced in the light and settled on the clothes and heads of the advisors. There were nine men seated round the table. They rose to their feet and nodded in acknowledgment as she made her way behind their chairs towards the large high-backed seat at the head of the table. The split-miet she sat down the advisors started up on their infernal whining.

"Your Majesty the King is on death's door, very soon he will pass on, and then what? You must prepare yourself and this country for your eventual coronation."

Murmurs of assent followed and the gaggle of men began to chatter, harassing the Princess to secure a marriage to some powerful dignitary.

Gin'iro remained silent; a cold anger seething from her as she sat upright in her chair, her steady gaze running over each man till the flow of comments ebbed to a tense silence.

"Gentlemen," she spoke up her voice controlled and holding an irritated edge to it, "we have much bigger things to worry about rather than my apparent need for a husband. Yes as sad as it is the King is dying, despite all out efforts it will not be long until the King passes on. I will be left as ruler of this country in his place. However whether or not I will marry and have a spring or winter wedding is not the issue at hand. With the absence of such a King as my father, there will be many a person who will see me as unfit to rule. There are times of strife ahead Advisors, mark my words my ascension to the throne will not be met with glad tidings from all. We are under threat, there are people who wish to take over Hadrian and rule her as their own, you must know this." She paused to look at the sombre faces of each man, "But fear not, I have made plans, something that I'm afraid that as of yet I cannot tell you about. You must trust me until the appropriate time arises."

She finished with a note of heavy finality to her tone, the advisors would protest no doubt, demand to know her plans. She would tell them when she felt more confident of the situation herself.

For a bare miet the room was silent, the pompous men gathering their thoughts,

"This is an outrage!…"

"You cannot expect us to just take your word for this Princess…"

"Preposterous I tell you! The day that a mere adolescent girl thinks that she knows best for a country! In my day women knew their place, never spoke out against men and positions were respected."

"Gentlemen let us not debate about the demise of society please. In the end I am the eventual ruler of this Kingdom, you are mere advisors if necessary I will pull rank upon you, either way my plans will remain the same. I will explain all to you when the appropriate time comes."

Ruffled feathers visibly puffed up, the wounded egos of peacocks huffed through the air. Gin' suppressed a small smile at the looks of irritation and bewilderment upon each of the faces of the Royal Advisors.

Rising to her feet she motioned to the doors as they opened, "The meeting is over, council adjourned."

A wounded silence followed at chairs scraped across the wooden floors and the advisors left the room exchanging looks. Gin' didn't doubt that the moment they were alone they'd be complaining about her. She had her reasons for not telling them about her late night request of two days past. She didn't trust the advisors to keep it quiet and still she wasn't sure whether her request would be met.

* * *

They had been travelling for near two days now. Dilandau had not allowed his men the luxury of stopping, they were after all the Ryuugekitai of the now fallen Black Dragon Clan, and they were strong men that did not need to rest. On the other hand the elements were against them, a great storm was on its way, and the weather was frigid making the ground solid against the hooves of their mounts. Dilandau hated the rain vehemently and he did not want to stop and wait for it to pass by nor did he want to ride out across the open plains while the heavens pissed down on him.

A curious, niggling part of him wanted to get to the castle soon and find out why a mere slip of a girl had the audacity to demand that assistance of the great General of the Dragonslayers.

A part of Dilandau had been in a constant argument since he had read the letter. Gin'iro hadn't been specific, stating only that there was a position within the Kingdom that he could not refuse. The General was no fool and knew that something was wrong. Princesses did not normally request the presence of Generals such as him, and also Gin' would never want Dilandau anywhere near her home unless she was desperate.

A smirk crossed his face at the thought of royalty practically begging for his help. Yet still something didn't sit right with him. There had been a great many holes in her provided information. And if he were going to take her up on his offer he would have to everything. But more than that, Dilandau's perceptive side knew that in order for a person such as Gin'iro to request _him_ of all people she must indeed be desperate, and he had every sadistic intention of abusing this to its full potential.

The General's men wondered why there were headed in the opposite direction of their current employer, yet none were stupid enough to question the General.

Ever since the arrival of the young messenger boy Dilandau had been preoccupied to the point where Gatti nearly had to gag and bind Chesta to prevent him from actually _questioning_ Dilandau on his present state. Their leader was obviously contemplating something, and the subject of his thoughts was making him even more irritable than ever. Not one of his men wanted to interrupt his thoughts and ask him where they were headed, instead they remained in their saddles and followed the General as he led the way through country that he seemed to be very familiar with.

A little over a costa behind them thunder rolled and the threat of torrential rain hung in the air. A look of pure disgust crossed the albino leader's face as a great drop of rain splattered on the armoured neck of his charger. Others followed the drip in a slow pace that picked up till the rain fell in sheets, all in a split-miet.

Pulling his cloak around him tightly Dilandau pushed his steed into a speedy gallop. As the Dragonslayers and their bloodthirsty leader charged across the sodden fields towards the ever-growing castle of Hadrian the storm followed. High above them thick black clouds rolled across the sky blotting out all light and casting a dark shadow across the land. Lightning exploded in sharp forked slashes illuminating the land briefly in blue.

The storm rolled onwards foretelling the arrival of the Demon General and the Dragonslayers of the Black Dragon Clan.

* * *

The figure writhed upon the bed. Her head tossing across the pillow, her dainty hands grasping the sheets in fists as dreams of blood and fire plagued her. An inferno consumed her, sweat beading across her forehead, her legs twitching as she fought to run from the demons. A great fire consumed the seer in her sleep; she was lost in the nightmare. Sweat soaked her body, running down her rigid arms as she thrashed in fear, slick strands of honey-brown hair stuck to her cheeks and neck.

Her mind was fogged with thick black smoke. Faint screams and wails echoed all around her. _Something_ dark and dangerous made the small hairs upon the back of her neck and arms stand on end. Out of a reflex she fought to flee. Years of training, running to clear her head and forget the pain in her heart, pushed her onwards. Her toned legs pumping as she fled through the thick fog, frantically looking over her shoulder as a great black shadow loomed behind her, gaining on her with each explosive heartbeat. The mist closed in on her, swallowing her in its humid embrace. It was gaining on her, oh god! So close to her now.

She ran, her heart slamming against her ribs as she fled for her very life. Her legs thrashed against the bed, her body convulsing as the nightmare gripped her with its reality. A low rumble growled from behind her, a bright light exploded all around her blinding the girl as she threw up her arms to protect herself.

Scalding heat raged around her, an inferno erupted replacing the black with livid red. Upon the bed her body went rigid, mouth open in a silent scream of agony as sheer pain paralysed her body. The fire gripped her, scalding her skin, once lush pink lips cracking as the seer dropped to her knees, powerless to stop the vision that engulfed her. Each image slammed into her with the force of a runway freight train, their clarity marred by a tilting and hazed perspective.

_A flash._

Narrow winding stairs leading down to a shadowy cavern lit only by small torches.

_A flash._

A dark room with a long wooden table as its centrepiece. Cloaked figures sat around the table, their faces hidden by the cowls of black cloaks.

_A flash._

A smaller figure walks in and seats themselves at the head of the table.

_A flash._

A rolled parchment appears in their hands. A gloved hand holds a quill as they sign the bottom of the scroll in crimson ink.

An explosion of red light. Scenes of war rushed at her, all around her a battle raged, screams pierced the air, fire charred bodies, men fell and blood soaked her in wave after wave.

A flare of silver broke through the red; a glinting blade flew at her, the sharp edge aimed for her neck in a deadly arc.

Hitomi dug her nails into the mattress, her knuckles turning white from her iron-grip. A shriek bubbled in her throat and ripped forth, a tortured scream erupted as she bolted upright, the vision tossing her from its embrace.

The girl gasped for breath, sweat and tears mingling on her face as she collapsed out of her bed and lay twitching on the cold floor.

* * *

Princess Gin'iro spent the rest of the day hidden in the Great Library of the castle. Amongst the numerous rows of leather bound books, the shelves that reached the domed roof and the heavy mahogany tables she stood silently, her mind on tragic things. In front of her a map that showed the borders of her Father's Kingdom was unrolled and held down at the edges by heavy books on warfare.

Hands on hips she tipped her head towards the roof and took a deep breath. Her fluid amethyst eyes took in the great portrait engraved upon the roof. Angels and Cherubs played upon gold-trimmed feather-light fluffy clouds. As she continued to stare she swore she could hear the echoes of heavenly music of the Angels, the sweet sounds of a harp sending shivers down her spine and the tinkling of laughter singing across the heavens.

A sullen squeak of the double doors creaking open made her drop her eyes from the heavens and she turned to her Father's most trusted advisor and friend.

"Ah, Lord Rosuto glad that you could spare the time to join me." She smiled warmly, holding her hand out for him to join her. The middle-aged man returned her smile and took her pale hand in his own, placing a friendly kiss upon her knuckles.

He gestured past her to the piles of scrolls, the bundles of maps, the towers of dusty heavy books and the half melted candle.

"A long night in store Princess?" he asked, walking round her and taking a seat in amongst the materials.

It was only mid-afternoon, yet Gin' had freed up the rest of her day so that she could immerse herself in maps and books in the sanctuary of the Library and prepare for the arrival…

"Princess?" A throaty voice pulled her from the cold that rushed through her veins and the knots that her stomach twisted itself into at her thoughts.

"Sorry Rosuto, my mind was elsewhere, you were saying?"

"Milady I was merely saying that you shouldn't work yourself too hard, your country cannot afford to have an exhausted and spent Princess in its time of strife." His dark eye watched the young royal as her hands clasped over her stomach and stared pensively out the great bay windows that looked out towards the eastern plains. She nodded absently, barely even noticing as the worried advisor took his leave.

With a furrowed brow she crossed the room, her footfalls falling silent on the thick rugs then her boots thudding as she slowly crossed the dark hardwood floors towards the windows.

Resting her forehead against the cool pane of glass she gazed out across her country. Outside it was as pretty as a picture; the day was sunny, clear and cold. The thin layer of frost had melted in the sun, a crisp clear blue sky domed above the land, beyond the armed castle walls she could see people milling about along the streets, plumes of smoke drifted lazily on the slight wind. A small sigh left her lips and misted across the glass, on days like this she wished she were free from the constraints of position, duty and expectations. It was selfish and foolish of her to wish such a thing in the current situation yet her guilt did not quell such thoughts of being out on her stallion galloping through the forests of her land with the cool fresh wind filling her lungs instead of the stuffy dusty air in the library.

Physically shaking herself she turned away from the scene below, her eyes stopping on the dark clouds that crested the horizon. A heavy feeling of dread filled her as she stared at the inky black clouds that swirled above the mountains. Like a premonition of an approaching danger the storm clouds slid across the sky, their path running over the eastern plains and heading directly towards the city.

Gin' returned to the heaped table and immersed herself in maps, trade routes and hefty convoluted books of warfare.

While chewing on a sandwich and trying to decipher the various winding lines upon a map, Gin' was pulled from her analysing by a great crack of thunder.

Her stomach flip-flopped as she rose from the chair and slowly made her way to the window. The great pitch-black storm clouds had rolled on over the city. The thunder boomed almost directly above her and streaks of forked blue lightning exploded across the night's black sky.

Gin'iro was not a superstitious woman but something almost instinctive told her that with the storm something else dark and dangerous was approaching.

She left the window and quickly made her way up back stairs to her chambers. Locking the door behind her she ran through the vast apartment to the large expanse of glass in her private sitting room.

In the dark she leaned against he window and peered out across the front courtyard of the castle and towards the drawbridge.

"What am I _doing_?!" the anguished wail filled the dark room as Gin' remained pacing in front of the windows.

The decision to bring Dilandau back into her country had not been undertaken lightly. But still she was under a lot of pressure and stress and probably wasn't thinking in a clear-headed manner. But then if she weren't in the current situation she was in she wouldn't _need_ Dilandau's assistance at all.

Gin'iro couldn't believe what she was doing. She was brining a blood thirsty, murdering sadist into her country. Welcoming him, Gods practically _begging_ him to come.

She was no fool, knowing that Dilandau was not going to be controlled, lied to or kept in the dark. And for the most part she had no intention of doing so. In order for her plans to work Dilandau would have to know practically everything she did.

With a resigned sigh that echoed in the room the Princess dropped down into an ornamental chair that faced the great windows. The rain fell in sheets; the glass shaking in its casings as fierce winds battered against the castle, the dark was briefly cut through by flashes of lightning.

The storm raged outside, getting more violent by the passing miets, the wind howled and the rain all but obliterated any length of vision. Sitting tense in her chair Gin' jumped with each noise, her stomach becoming knot upon knot as a feeling of cold dread slowly seeped through her.

Rising from her chair she pressed her forehead to the glass and peered down to the long bridge that met the drawbridge outside the castle. As the flashes of lightning more frequent Gin' spotted a line of horses thundering towards the front of the castle. A militaristic line of men mounted upon black steeds rushed towards the bridge, the closer they got the deep-seated feeling of trepidation built in Gin' till near breaking point. With each flash she put together the picture of soldiers arriving at her home. The bridge lowered and the great stone arch briefly hid the new arrivals. With her hands pressed against the glass Gin' strove to see who it was, lightning erupted in the sky, unnaturally bright light bathed the world for a split-miet, and in that instance Gin'iro saw a flag being held by a mounted soldier. It was the insignia of the Dragonslayers.

The Demon General had arrived.

* * *

**_To be continued… _**

**A/N: **Lyrics - **Metallica, "FiXXXer"**. Much gratitude to all the lovely people who have reviewed this and _The Wild Rose_.

Edited 30/05/04


	5. Four: The Fates That Bind

_Chapter Four: The Fates That Bind _

Pressing the palms of her hands against the cold wooden floor, Hitomi tried to push herself into an upright position. Her forearms shook with the effort of trying to uphold her exhausted form. She pushed herself up onto her knees and half-crawled, half-dragged her way through to the bathroom. The cold tiles scraped against her knees as Hitomi dragged her shivering frame across the freezing floor of the brightly illuminated bathroom. Coming up against the firm wall she slowly turned herself and used the wall as a support.

Her head was spinning, images of blood and fire flashed before her eyes. Choking back a sob she clutched her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. Gagging with the white-hot pain in her head she moaned in the silence of the bathroom and pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes.

"Not again…" Her cracked voice echoed in the cold room. She slid down the wall and lay curled tightly on her side. The bathroom was bright, the glare from the fluorescent lights burning her eyes. It was so clean and sanitary in here, so white. The tiles looked like the walls of a padded cell, the disinfectant reminding her of endless corridors and dark nights. Stifling a sob she fought to push away unwanted memories and clenched her eyes shut tight.

Pain and confusion clouded her mind. The visions were back, but now they were stronger and more painfully vivid that ever before. This vision she didn't understand, not being able to remember specific details Hitomi fought to keep the visions. But like water held in cupped hands they slid away from her. She could remember something dark advancing on her, some fiery demon wreaking destruction leaving nothing but death in its wake. Was Van in danger? Was this a warning that something or someone was searching for him? Helplessness washed over her, even if it was a warning she no longer had her contact with Van and had no way to warn or save him. There was no premonition for the once-seer; she was merely left with the overpowering sense of fear that made her blood run cold.

Her eyelids felt heavy and drooped over blood-shot emerald eyes, curled on the cold bathroom floor and still shivering Hitomi fell into a fitful sleep. Her only saving grace was that she dreamt no more.

* * *

A cold wind whipped around him, blowing his dark cloak in a shadow that enveloped him. High above the thunder snarled like an angry dog and the rain poured down hard, stinging as it hit. Dilandau looked up at the large castle that dominated the skyline. An explosion of blue lightning flashed across the gargoyles; showing their twisted, snarling expressions in an unholy light. The Demon General handed the reins of his steed to the awaiting stable boy and led his rain soaked men into the castle.

As he strode into the main doors, Dilandau was struck by how empty it was. In the past bustling servants had always populated the castle, even at this late hour. A red-gloved hand appeared from the pools of black fabric and tugged down the hood of his cloak. Scornful red eyes surveyed the large halls as he was led to a waiting room. Instantly Dilandau felt the tension in the air, the fear that lingered and the darting eyes of the servants. And for once it was a fear that he had not induced. The castle was not as he remembered it, there was something definitely wrong and it hung in the air, the dread almost palpable.

The young boy that led him to a waiting room kept nervously casting glances back at him. Catching the boy's eye, the Demon General gave him a contemptuous look, the poor boy almost wetting his trousers in fear.

They reached a fairly large room, the entrance to which was flanked by two large guards. Dilandau found himself smirking at this, as if they'd stop him if he chose to get a little rough. As he was escorted into the room, the General let his eyes survey his surroundings. The room was dark, lit only by small torches and a fire in the grate. The windows were covered with dark and heavy drapes. Outside the storm still raged on, the wind battered against the windows, causing the panes of glass to rattle in their casings. He was alone, his men having been taken to another room at the request of the **Princess**. Dilandau couldn't help but frown ever so slightly at this, where was the **King** involved in all of this? He didn't ponder on it too much, took a note of it and stored it away in his the recesses of his calculating mind. Slowly, he circled the room judging by the oil paintings, the chairs and bureau piled with books Dilandau surmised himself to be in one of the lesser-seen rooms of the castle. _Well, aren't I the privileged one?_ Dilandau was indeed right; he was standing in Gin'iro's personal study in the western wing of the castle. Not many people had seen it, and he couldn't have guessed how "privileged" he was.

Dilandau took off his rain-soaked cloak and draped it across the back of one of the chairs, running his gloved fingers through his wet hair he put order back into his unruly locks. As the General continued to stalk round the room, lifting the occasional book here and there his mind drifted to his 'Slayers. He held no worry for their whereabouts, knowing that if it came down to it they would have the sense to act in his absence. He **had** trained them **personally** after all. With collected feline grace Dilandau dropped into one of the chairs in front of the crackling fire. If memory served him rightly, Gin'iro was always late and royalty had that irritating penchant for making a grand entrance. And so he waited, seated in front of the fire that warmed his chilled body but did nothing to alleviate the scowl that deepened with each miet Gin' kept him waiting.

* * *

It wasn't as if she was keeping him waiting on **purpose**. The moment that she had seen whom it was approaching her castle she had left her chambers and made off to meet the General when he arrived. She could remember just how much he hated waiting and wanted their meeting to go as smoothly as possible. Halfway down the corridor she met with resistance from a gaggle of advisors.

"Milady!" They called after her, and try as she might she just couldn't pretend they weren't there.

"We have just heard the most disturbing news!" One huffed as they caught up to her.

"Really?" She queried, "What is it?"

"We have just heard the most ridiculous rumour. That General Albatou has arrived at the castle!" Her eyes darkened with suspicion and tapered at the edges, just how exactly had they heard that so **quickly**? _You're wasting time here, Gin'. Each moment passed lessens his patience, and you'll need it when you pitch your plan to him. _Oh Gods, was she actually aiming to be in the General's good graces?

"It's not a rumour. He is here." She replied curtly, turning swiftly and making her way down the corridor.

"Milady?" They called after her, baffled at the news. She stopped at a corner and reigned in the urge to scream at them all,

"Most trusted Advisors," if there was an edge of sarcasm to her voice, they missed it, "I have a most urgent meeting with General Albatou, one that I must not be late for. However, tomorrow I will schedule a council meeting so that these apparently perplexing events can be explained in full. A good night to you all." And with that she zipped down the hall and was gone before they could close their gaping mouths.

Abandoning all pretences Gin'iro reached down and gathered her dress in folds of fabric in her fists and practically ran the long way from her chambers at the highest floor of the castle, down flights of stairs to her personal study in the west wing. However, the dress and heeled shoes that she had changed into did nothing to help her in her attempt at a speedy greeting. She had of course, been forced by protocol to change into formal wear. It would not do for a Princess to meet with **anyone** wearing an unrefined riding outfit.

Stopping at the door she took a calming breath and smoothed her hands over the rumpled dark material of her dress. Running over her plan and possible retorts to insults (purely for backup, of course) through her head, Gin' raised her chin a few notches and swept into her study and into the audience of the awaiting General.

The silver-haired man in question turned his head away from the fire in the hearth and watched Gin' as she regally walked into his seething presence. He rose to his feet and glowered at her, eyes dark and half-hidden under his furrowed brow. His arms came across his chest as he watched her walk further into the room.

At his look she quailed inside, but by pure breeding alone managed to remain composed. Keeping her gaze level with his, she allowed her chin to drop in a mere hint of acknowledgement.

"General," she broke the tense silence in a calm voice, "So good of you to some so quickly. I trust you have been well?"

Her voice only served to add further fuel to the fire of anger that razed in his veins. Dilandau was tired and uncomfortable in his wet armour, although he would never admit this aloud. He didn't have a remaining shred of patience left to dance around the issue with pleasantries and made it plain to Gin'iro.

"Get to the point, **Princess**. Why am I here?" He snarled.

_Well, I can hardly say that was unexpected. _Gin' gave a slight nod and moved past him to a large cherry-wood cabinet that leaned against a far wall. From it she removed a beautifully sculpted crystal decanter and two gold edged chalices. Dilandau watched the red liquid as it sloshed against the clear walls of the bottle as Gin' removed the stopper and poured two glasses. Coming back to the centre of the room, where he stood, she proffered him a glass. He eyed it warily and looked back at the woman with evident distrust on his features,

"General, despite many a threat from my childhood; I haven't stooped so low as to poison your drink." She declared, taking a sip from her own glass.

"Well that's certainly comforting." He drawled taking a swallow, all the while watching her carefully. It was Asturain vino, the only kind that Dilandau truly appreciated and enjoyed, it had been a while since he had last tasted it.

"Princess," His voice taunted her, a smirk beginning to twist the corners of his mouth, "Are you attempting to bribe me?"

"Of course not." Her voice sounded a little too snappish for her liking and she cleared her throat. "I'm not, General. I merely thought that after travelling so far that you might enjoy a glass of the finer brands of vino before we proceed." She amended smoothly. _Wonderful, now I'm a sycophant._

He nodded in response, that irritating all-knowing smirk staying in place. _Right, enough beating around the bush; let's get down to the matter at hand._ She moved away and took a seat at the large dark table close to the covered windows, placing her goblet on the table the Princess motioned for him to take a seat across from her. She watched as he did so, in a fluid movement he dropped into the winged chair, one hand coming to a rest on the arm the other's fingers laced around the glass. Gin'iro unlocked a drawer at her right and pulled out a large stack of paper, she ignited an oil lamp and Dilandau examined her in the buttery light. Since he had last seen her she'd grown, that much was obvious. She looked much older than she should though, and something about her disposition was putting him off. His gaze was cool as he tried to decipher what it was. When she had greeted him she'd been the picture of a poised and somewhat aloof royal, but Dilandau could feel that there was something being hidden under the veneer of composure. Then he saw it as she shifted in the lamplight. Tiny, almost imperceptible lines creased at the corners of her eyes. Under her eyes grey shadows lurked, it looked as though she'd tried to hide them with powder, but Dilandau Albatou missed nothing. Then it all became clear, faced pinched with **worry** and as her eyes moved he caught it. A flicker of **fear** darted in those amethyst depths of hers. Dilandau was an expert in fear, he commanded it, induced it, revelled in it. Like some primal animal he could** sense** it in his victims and company. And Gin'iro was in fear of something. Something so bad that it lurked in her eyes and leaked into her physical features, and indeed it must be bad for she had called for **his** assistance. And he had no doubts on where she stood on her opinion of him. He didn't care of course; the feeling was mutual.

"So, Princess is this some ploy for me to die from boredom? Or are you going to get to the point before the night is through?" Dilandau enquired lazily, swirling the vino around in his glass.

She chose to ignore his tone and leaned forward, fingers interlinked and hands rested on top of the large pile of papers.

"Firstly, General, as surprising as this may sound, I would like to thank you for journeying here so quickly and on such short notice." He raised an eyebrow at this, yet remained silent. "I was deliberately very vague in my correspondence with you. One has to be these days, never know who's going to get a hold of such things."

He saw it in her eyes and heard it in her voice, uncertainty and mistrust. _This is going to be most interesting indeed. _

She looked up at him, his face was impassive and she couldn't determine anything from his body language or guarded eyes.

"I imagine you're wonder where the King is in all of this. He would normally deal in such matters, but as it is…" Gin' trailed off and took a sip of her vino. Not out of any urge to drink, just to wet her dry throat and stall to gather her thoughts.

Dilandau sat straighter in his chair, instantly intrigued by the direction that she was taking,

"And what exactly are the conditions that prevent the King from gracing me with his presence?" His demeanour changed from boredom to one of acute awareness. This was where Gin' knew she had to be careful, one slip and he'd shred her to pieces.

"What I'm about to tell you is in the strictest of confidences, Dilandau." She was using that tone now, the one of royalty, cool and commanding with a threatening edge to it. Dilandau laughed in response,

"Are **you** _threatening_ **me**?" He curved his lips into a smirk, but his eyes showed no sign of amusement. He looked dangerous and she had to tread very carefully here.

"I don't threaten, General." She said coldly, "It's the truth, what I'm about to tell you can never go beyond us. Not for the moment anyway."

"Go on." When was she going to get to the damn point?!

"I need your word."

That was it, he snapped, the corner of a dark eye twitched in irritation "Are you **serious**? I get a letter when I'm in the middle of battle telling me that you have an offer that I just _"won't be able to refuse"_. I come all this way only to be greeted by a tardy Princess. And when you finally get here you dance about the issue and give off vague impressions of what it's all about. I did not come here to play some little game with you Gin'iro, so get to the damn point and stop yanking my dick before I leave!" He spat, his eyes sparking with fury.

Gin' paled then flushed at his words. Certainly, since he had left Folken's command he had become brasher and his language more vulgar.

"I'm not…"yanking" any part of your anatomy, General. But this is of a most sensitive nature-"

"Get to the point." He interjected his voice a forced calm, but she felt the undercurrents of anger.

Her brow furrowed in worry, "Very well." Damn it, this was just not going to plan. She discarded her well-rehearsed speech and spat it out, "My father's dying, and I'll be queen in a few short moons, if what the doctor says is correct. My people don't know of my father's ailing health. Mainly because I know that it must be kept a secret from Rafe until Hadrian is more secure. I don't trust any of the royal council, they all want to marry me off to some oaf. Apparently a woman is incapable of ruling alone. Not only that, I'm **betrothed**, but to whom I don't know because the papers have been lost over the years and my father doesn't have the presence of mind to tell me. Of course, providing that I actually live a day longer than my father, I also have my scheming oldest brother to worry about. I don't know what he's got planned or who he's bribed. Relations with Cesario are becoming increasingly tenuous, we're at the brink of war. I don't trust my father's General. Which is where you come in. I asked for you to come here, because-…" she paused, "The position of General of Hadrian's armies is about to become free, you're the only man on Gaia that I can think of that is capable for the job." She rushed out in a manner unbefitting a noble.

Oh yes Gin', very regal and composed. What would father think if he could see this? I'll never get him to do this now. That small voice inside her head sneered amidst the images of what would become of Hadrian and herself if she failed.

Throughout her speech Dilandau had remained quiet, and once she finished her little outburst his only reaction was the blinking of his eyes and a slight twitch in his cheek. She held her breath waiting for some kind of verbal response. And it became quite clear that she wasn't going to get one, he leaned back in his chair and a wicked grin began to spread across his lips. His eyes glittered with dark amusement and at his low laugh, Gin' felt any shred of hope she had fade away.

Dilandau took his sweet time processing this new information. From the way that he interpreted it, Gin'iro had no choice but to come to him. Everything was falling apart around her she had no knowledge of warfare whatsoever and her only hope for the survival of her country was winning the impending war with Cesario. Which was where he came in to play, quite nicely actually. He didn't have to take the offered position. Part of him wanted to watch her face fall as he declined, for her to cringe as his mocking laughter rang out in the halls as he took his leave. What would happen to her then, he wondered. Would she fall apart when her country needed her? Would she end her own life? Fall at the hands of another? What would happen to the great country of Hadrian? Once Cesario had taken all that it wanted from Her, it'd be left to the vultures to pick at whatever resources were left. He could see it all in his mind, the kind of fate that awaited Gin' and Hadrian if he refused. The opportunity to watch this kind of destruction was almost to good to be true. After all the time that he'd spent with the irritating royal across from him, he'd wanted nothing more than to see her destroyed. But, when he'd fantasized about it, she hadn't fallen at the hand of another; it had been him and **his** blade that had tasted her royal flesh. It had been **his** armour that her "blue" blood had spattered across as he cut off her pleas with one swipe and **his** cruel laughter that had tolled her death.

Gin'iro did not like the look upon Dilandau's face. He looked positively frightening; his eyes were unfocused and glowing with passionate bloodlust. A mad grin split his expression, his cheek ticking in rhythm with his gloved fingers as he stroked the side of his face. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking. So perturbed by his appearance, she didn't dare provoke him for an answer.

Dilandau's thoughts completed a full circle of analysis as he pondered the full implications of Gin'iro's proposal. Now that he thought about it, what she was so eagerly offering him sounded better than slashing her jugular. If he took her up on her offer, he'd have **power**, the kind that he had back in the days of the Black Dragon Clan. A whole, highly trained, fully outfitted army at his command. And a war tantalizingly looming in front of him. He began to feel almost giddy at the prospect, once again Gaia would tremble at his feet, cower at his rage and hundreds of men would fall at his hand in wave after wave of delicious crimson. Yes, what she offered was what he **wanted**. Memories of past, glorious battles played in his mind and he could feel himself tremble in anticipation at the prospect of causing more bloodshed on such a scale. This was the opportunity that he'd been waiting for; this was the position that was worthy of him and his men. Dilandau's grin widened and to Gin' he looked like the devil incarnate.

He'd already decided to take her up on her offer. But as his focus snapped to her and she flinched at his murderous look, he decided to drag it out a little. He did need his fun; after all he had spent hours travelling in the rain. She didn't need to know of his decision, not yet at least. _Just how far will you go to get me on your side, Princess? How much can I make you do, make you give me? What lengths will you take bribery to?_

Finally, after miets that seemed to drag by like hours to Gin', Dilandau spoke. He drained his glass and leaned forward. Burning dark scarlet eyes caught her own as they glittered with a sinister light. This was it; she held her breath in anticipation. He saw it and mentally smirked at how weak she was. Taking a slow, deliberate breath, he exhaled the smell of vino pervading her senses. His voice was deep and tainted with some kind of glee that Gin' didn't dare dwell on.

"I'll need to sleep on it." He informed her flatly, keeping his face inexpressive.

"What?!" she barked, the word leaving her mouth before she could stop it. Was he serious?

Smoothly, one sterling brow rose as he regarded her with cool eyes. "This is something that I need to think about, **Princess**." He sneered at her title, "I already have a much coveted position in the east. If I **were** to take up this new station, certain sacrifices would have to be made. I must take the time to deliberate on my options." He kept his voice even despite the urge to laugh at the look of anger and shock that registered on her face.

He was challenging her and she knew it. How far was he going to take this little game of his? She had no clue as to what decision he had made, only that he **had** made one. Gin' had spent enough time around Dilandau in their earlier years to be well aware of his impulsive nature and that he never took the time to _"deliberate on options"_. He was teasing her. _How far are you going to push me, Dilandau? Are you going to force this to its limits, see how far I'll go to get you on my side then tell me no? What are you going to make me do, make me give you? _She wanted to scream at him that she didn't have the time to wait around for him to make up his deranged mind. Pooling all of her willpower the princess forced herself to stay still in her chair and not reach out and throttle him all the while screaming that they had very little time left and she just **did not** have the patience for his sick little games. She knew full well of his "coveted" position in the east, and knew as well as he that what she offered was more prestigious. Gin' wanted to tell him as much but thought better of it. The meeting had gone exactly the way that she had hoped to avoid. Her intention had been to keep the upper hand and avoid such typically Dilandau-styled negotiations. But, somehow he had gotten the better of her and held the upper hand.

She was at his mercy and there was nothing she could do about it. It infuriated her no end, and she hated being so powerless. Her only hope was that Dilandau got tired of this game quickly and made her torture short lived, she shuddered to think of what demands he would make of her to sway his decision. She would do what was necessary in the name of her country, but she had limits. If Dilandau presumed to push her too far she'd send him on his way, help or no help. She'd just have to do it by herself, or find someone else to take up the position. Gaia certainly wasn't short of warriors.

With that (minuscule) comforting thought, she plastered on a fake smile and rose from her chair, "Of course, you and your men must be tired from your long journey, General. You are most welcome to spend the night in the castle. Someone will show your men to the barracks." She kept her voice light and smooth. He didn't need to know of the profanities that she was mentally hurling his way.

Grasping a long stretch of fabric she hauled it a little too sharply and Dilandau didn't bother to hide his grin at that. He had really gotten under her skin, and he knew it. Almost the instant after Gin'iro had rang a servant entered the room and bowed,

"Princess Gin'iro?"

"Koru, please show the General to one of the guest suites on the third floor and send for someone to show his Dragonslayers to the unoccupied barracks." She ordered, ice infecting her tone.

The young man nodded and stepped back as Dilandau rose to his full and imposing height, picking up his cloak he cast a smug look her way and gave her the barest of nods, "Princess."

She watched as he followed Koru out of the room and as the door closed behind him slumped down into her chair. Damp fingertips touched her forehead and she realised that her hands had been sweating throughout the entire ordeal. A dull ache had settled between her eyes and letting out a long, deep sigh she scrunched herself lower into the cushions of her chair. Her mind running over what had transpired a wry, humourless smile tugged at her lips,

"Who's yanking whose dick **now**, Dilandau?"

* * *

**_To be continued…_**

30/05/04


End file.
